i’m gonna fucken kill the fucken satelite tv guy gonna fucken wake him the fuck up right the fuck now and fucken have him come and fix the shit job he fucken did. fucken fuckidy satelite dish the fuck shit fuck fuck shit cock suck shit cunt fuck.

12 hour shoot
i reek of white spirit
confounded lace wig,
i knew thee well.
this film will wrap
after one more scene
in a burned forest.

we went to Paris on a top secret mission
Isabelle and Tierry were the perfect hosts,
although i’m such a bother.
Paris is heaven and in other news the sky is blue,
although it was fashion week.
ate a head of camembert cheese in the airplane toilet,
cause of munchies, couldn’t wait.
but then the lady sitting next to me was crying,
i don’t think it was because of me, i had flossed.
[who knew Orly airport was so ghetto.]

d. d. a. C. L. s. g?
n? t. s. o.

in other news, the sky is blue.

i’m such a good cook. big fat pork fillet, whole tomatoes, whole onions, sea salt, dry thyme, a few drops of lemon juice, throw in the oven, wait, serve with some green tea, ATTACK.

in other news, I must get Dirk Bogarde’s books. i used to read them again and again when i lived in London, god I love this man.

what do we have here? good times with Forewood. Yes, Forewood.

i love spam.

Note to self: Pamela Franklin‘s performance
in Our Mother’s House, 1967.

..so it looks like since Ai-Ai,
everyone and their dog is doing The Blunt Hime.
yes, yes I know. Trendsettah. muahah..

Peggy Day: [On the train] Listen to the wheels, don’t they seem to be saying something?
Mary Haines: [Softly] No
Peggy Day: Don’t they seem to be saying… Go back, go back, go back, go back?

By god, this film by Cukor is so strange/charming. With 130 female roles, no man appears in this film, even the dogs were bitches.

Old Hollywood is the best, ever, forever.

The visit to the vet today was traumatic for everyone involved.

featuring: Souppy and the sadness in her eyes :-(

A friend recommended a vet who turned out to be a disappointment. Souppy is demented but still a vet should be able to handle a difficult animal. As it turned out, the doctor was scared of Souppy and Souppy hated the way she was being handled, did a tour-de-force Linda Blair Exorcist impersonation, got away from the retarded vet’s grasp and hid under an ugly desk, screaming all the while. Vet gave me gloves to get her out, Souppy butchered my forearms and clothes in the process but I yanked her out and we got out of there. Tomorrow we’ll go to our old vet. I hate changes. And now Souppy hates me.

Souppy the cat stomps in the room. sits on her big butt and stares wall-eyed at me.
she wants a hug. i give in. she settles in. starts purring, when…

teh horrors. true story, i swear.

photos i took of some of my Mdvanii dolls, click for color.
[Mdvanii: completely handmade in Paris, either resin or porcelain, ultra rare “luxury dolls” with human hair.]

having satellite television also means i’m becoming well-versed in hailey duff’s entire straight-to-dvd career. :-/

took a bath with this person
and i have photographic evidence

[ebay photo, click for color]

Got her dirt cheap, a mere 100 bucks without an opposing bid.
I’ve been fascinated by Debbie Drake dolls and their packaging for years.
They were made in 1963 in Hong Kong, 11,5 inches tall with multiple joints, a revolutionary doll concept for her time.
And what amazing, monochromatic packaging design.

went to biennale with Hera, boring works, retarded exhibition layout, got lost 4 times, took 20 mins to find entrance, a bird crapped on me, no bathroom in sight, retarded artsy cumfart biennale. we then ate at therapeftirio. met with Anna at bakaliko for tea and business, bought a clear glass tea set. Yiannos was there, i was so fucking happy and moved to see him. this diary is retarded. i am retarded. you are retarded, dirrty dirrty jew diary. hi mom.

i saw a butterfly!

podcast fun with marilita. on the internets soon. we went to dinner to kanela, after. came home, barfed. avoid.

when i’m very good
and do as i am told
i’m mama’s little angel
and
papa says i’m good as gold
but when i’m very baaaaadd..

eleven more emails

..as per usual, the emo bullshit banners circulate the myspaces and the mailing lists.

like anything is ever going to change in this dump of a country.
go hug a tree morons. oops, you can’t.

middle of the night
craving food
raid the fridge
stuff your face
bread, honey and milk
time…… stands……. still……………

the fires nearby have rendered the sky an ill grey-mustard color. inside the apartment it faintly smells of smoke and outside there’s a drizzle of ash. rainstorm.mp3 is blasting on my laptop. Popped some bromazepam.

tic.. toc… tic… toc….

Christiane Amanpour’s God’s Christian Warriors was very interesting. Religion is only politics, hardly breaking news, but it was frightening to see how gullible people are.

Battlecry = Stepford.

oftentimes, one is not needed. Good/Bad/OK.

“Her betrayal hurt me more than i dare show,
but i will forgive her and heal myself in private.”

“What do you mean, what will I do with myself?
I had of course assumed I would become a society hostess.”

cruel month of august is treading on sloooowly.
everything inanimate has come alive.
but the plants went to the big garden in the sky.
can’t fathom the tech mysteries of podcasting.

off to patmos island for 10 days.